Rage (quietly)
by The Readers Muse
Summary: Master Ren had not gone quietly into the grips of his secondary disgrace. That much was clear. But then, he never did.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Wars. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

 **Authors Note #1:** Set post-movie and details Hux finding Ren and getting them off Starkiller base before everything goes boom. I just really wanted to examine how Hux might have come across Kylo and how he was mentally as Starkiller base was breaking up.

 **Warnings:** canon appropriate violence, injury, angst, drama and just a hint of those pesky little emotions.

 **Rage (quietly)**

The indignity of being forced to flee from his own command was only compounded by having to search for the detestable Ren scant seconds before the entire planet disintegrated around them. Part of him had certainly balked at the order, but he was loyal. He would do his duty. Trusting that the Supreme Leader could only have the best interests of the First Order at heart as his exited the holo-chamber and ordered his personal squadron to prepare a shuttle for immediate departure, then aid in evacuation of the upper level crew.

His anger, however, had not been so fleeting.

Regardless of his father's opinion on subordinates, his troops deserved his full attention. In order to be respected he needed to be visible – transparent in his dedication and ferocious in his duties – especially when it came to saving as many lives as possible. His power relied on his authority and his authority was supported by the faith his officers and crew had in his abilities.

Instead, he was stumbling through the cracking snowdrifts, desperately trying to keep his footing. Ren's gangling, but surprisingly heavy form, unconscious over his shoulder as newly born continents fractured under his feet. Struggling to reach the small freighter Captain Phasma had flown to Ren's approximate location after coming across her by sheer luck as she extracted herself from a trash compactor on Level J. Extremely unwilling to discuss how she'd gotten there as she'd fallen into line beside him with barely a pause. Her quick report of her run in with the invading party – including Han Solo and the traitor FN2187 – helping him focus as they stumbled into the docking bay as they entire station groaned. Warping its death throes under their feet as troopers started to break free of their uniformed lines and scatter.

He was out of breath. Wet with earthy-filth and foreign blood and likely worse. Trying to navigate through a mess of falling trees and rapidly shifting terrain as he blinded himself by focusing solely on the flare of the ship's ground lights. Keenly aware that Ren's scarred face was butting against the small of his back. Nostril's flaring wildly as the scent of scorched skin and the dying planet singed the inside of his sinuses.

 _Just a little bit further._

 _Almost-_

He half fell up the ramp, shins banging into the side with a brassy clang. Misjudging the distance in the blowing snow as he dragged the prone man the rest of the way inside. Boot heels barely out of range when Phasma engaged the locking procedures and prepped for emergency departure.

The entire thing was _indecent_ and he wasn't going to stand for it.

The only problem thus far was that he'd been denied an audience.

He'd fully intended to take the foolish simpleton to task for the entire affair before he'd found Ren in the freezing cold. His wounds had still been steaming – hazing smoke and every acrid-taint he hadn't known existed in the world until that very moment. The man was seriously wounded and stark against the snow. Sucking in air like he was winded as somewhere beyond the thick span of trees the sound of an explosion rippled through the frigid air.

It was the smell, more than anything, that turned his stomach.

 _The sight of injuries he could handle._

 _But the smell?_

 _He would rather endure the pain of it himself than offend his senses in such a manner._

There was no time to linger, they had been on borrowed time already. So he'd saved the lecture, noticing as he looked away briefly - mastering himself as the urge to cover his nose became almost overwhelming – that the man was surrounded by footprints. Boot treads that were littered across the snow like blood spatter. The clearing around them ruined. Host to saber-scars and toppled trunks, all indications of a fierce – if not relatively brief – battle.

 _Master_ Ren had not gone quietly into the grips of his secondary disgrace.

That much was clear.

But then, he never did.

He slapped him across the face the moment he sank down on his haunches, heels muddying the black slacks of his uniform. Bringing him back to consciousness for a fleeting moment. A smattering of seconds that found them both captured by it. Looking up at him as he bled red into the alien snow. Staring at him with eyes that spoken of loss, confusion, rage and personal demons before they rolled up in his head and he lost him again. Murdering the words that'd been caught on his tongue before the harsh syllables could fly free.

 _There was no time._

It was a reality he had to swallow as they broke through the atmosphere at inadvisable speed. Finding himself instinctively bracing against Ren's prone form – keeping him safe, secure – as the realization that everything he'd worked for was effectively gone washed over him like the shock-wave that was gaining on them.

It was an inexcusable offense that he took personally.

And in all likelihood he was looking down at the very culprit.

 _Oh yes._

It had been Ren's obsession with the scavenger that had caused this. He was sure of it. And like a house of cards collapsing one on top of the other, this was the result of the final fall. His mouth thinned down into a brutal half-moon line. Forcing his lips into a strange sort of bloodlessness as his molars ground together in wordless rage.

And yet-

He considered the affair carefully as he looked down at the unconscious man. Appearing strangely small in that moment. Almost swallowed by the bacta-bed and the medical droid that was pinching, poking, and injecting Ren's pale, freckled skin.

And somehow- for reasons beyond him- he allowed the feelings to lessen. Smoldering down into barely lit coals in his breast as the rise and fall of the Ren's chest soothed him into a tenuous calm he neither appreciated nor understood.

At least for now.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – This story is now complete.


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